


won't be soon before long

by carafin



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 14:31:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12706914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carafin/pseuds/carafin
Summary: In which GeorgiSuffers.“I mean, it’s not pathetic at all,” Georgi says in a monotone, because romance is dead. Romance is dead because Viktor Nikiforov killed it. “You’ve only been pining after him forsix months.”“Oh, shut up,” Viktor snaps from his hiding place behind a large magical toadstool.





	won't be soon before long

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by a [tumblr](http://writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com/post/152052495094/years-ago-you-promised-your-firstborn-to-a-witch) post: Years ago, you promised your firstborn to a witch. Since then, despite your best efforts, you can’t seem to get laid. The witch is starting to get pretty pissed.
> 
> there are very very vague allusions to Mpreg but there's nothing graphic whatsoever. pls suspend ur disbelief just as i have suspended my sense of shame

It’s a beautiful summer morning, and Georgi’s seated on a large frond in the middle of the magical swamp in his backyard, trying his best to brood dramatically about his beloved Anya despite being silhouetted against a lovely magical forest full of cheerful woodlands creatures rather than the preferred bitterly cold wintery day or a cliff overlooking a tragically fleeting sunset.

“Help!” comes a man’s cry.

Georgi sighs. Dramatically.

It’s not the first time a traveller has wandered into his residence and strayed into his swamp; this is precisely why he’s erected multiple signage around the area to deter people from entering (and disrupting his very _precious_ , very _sacred_ brooding sessions): **“DO NOT ENTER” “DANGER KEEP OUT” “ ~~WITCH~~ ~~NECROMANCER~~ EXTREMELY DANGEROUS SOUL-SUCKING DEMON CREATURE OF THE DARK’S RESIDENCE” “MILKMAN TO LEAVE MILK UNDERNEATH POPPY PLANT THANK YOU”**

Georgi rows himself to the source of the noise with a discarded tree branch and sees a young, silver-haired guy struggling to keep afloat. The man, upon spotting Georgi, immediately reaches his hands out to grab hold of Georgi’s tree branch to keep himself afloat. There’s a moment of silence as the two men tussle for ownership of the branch; Georgi loses his balance and almost falls off the frond.

“Who are you, and how dare you trespass upon my residence,” Georgi demands in his most impressive voice. Next to him, the tiny hatchling perched on his left shoulder lets out a particularly menacing _chirrp_. Smoke billows out ominously from Georgi’s cottage through the chimney, accompanied by the refreshing scent of freshly baked honeysuckle pie.

“I’m sorry,” begged the man. “I am Viktor Nikiforov, and I am the Royal Prince. My dad, the king, wanted to marry me off to some princess, but I didn’t want to, so I ran away into the forest and got lost.”

A royal scandal? A lost love, never meant to be? Now _that’s_ the tragic backstory Georgi’s always dreamed of. He nods, and Viktor takes it as a sign to continue.

“- and then I was walking along a random path and I didn’t realise where I was going and I caught sight of a beautiful face in the swamp and was so enraptured by his beauty, I walked straight into the pond –”

The halfwit got distracted by his own reflection in the swamp. Everyday Georgi finds new things to be depressed about.

Georgi decides that it’s the last straw; if he’s is to deter other travellers from bumbling into his residence, he’s going to have to set his foot down and punish these wrongdoers, damnit.

“I’ll save you,” Georgi tells Viktor grimly, “In return for your _most prized possession_.”

Viktor considers the statement for a second. “Seems fair. What do you want?”

Georgi blinks, surprised. Clearly he hadn’t thought through it carefully. “Uh, how much do you have with you now?”

“I’ve, like, three bronze coins,” Viktor confesses. “And an old creaky violin.”

That won’t do. “Any other prized possessions?”

“I’ve a secret family recipe for a blueberry tart that’s famous in certain knitting circles,” Viktor offers.

Tempting, but… “Anything else?”

“I could offer you my virgini-”

“YOUR FIRSTBORN,” Georgi says, loudly. “YOU WILL GIVE ME YOUR FIRSTBORN CHILD.”

“Sure, but how can you make sure I won't lie and run away?” Viktor frowns, concerned.

“We’ll enter a magically binding agreement,” Georgi decrees grandly, pulling out his wand with his free hand and gesturing to the air around them. “You will pass me your firstborn on the pain of death. Until you do, you’re not allowed to leave this forest.”

“Deal!”

A spark of magic flies out from Georgi’s wand, and then fizzes away; now Viktor will have no choice but to obey him.

“By the way,” Viktor says, “Were you trying to brood while sitting on a piece of banana leaf? That’s like, _so uncool_.”

Georgi lets go of the tree branch.

 

 

 

Days turn into weeks turn into months, and Viktor _still_ hasn’t found a better half to breed a spawn with.

Georgi realises, with a rising wave of panic, that being trapped in the forest as a means of escaping his royal arranged marriage might have been Viktor’s goal all along.

Desperate times beget desperate measures. If Viktor’s not going to actively try to do something about the state of his singlehood, then _Georgi_ is going to intervene.

Georgi’s concept of romance has, thus far, involved a lot of one-sided pining, angst-ridden poetry, and inconsolable weeping.

Trying to get Viktor a partner yields pretty much the same teary results.

“Viktor, look outside! It’s Mila Babicheva passing by with her dad!” Georgi would say, peeking through a gap in the fence surrounding his backyard. Everyone knew Mila, even magical spirits like Georgi who lived in the middle of a forest, for her beauty was truly legendary. “Quick, run out before it’s too late!”

“Not interested,” Viktor would singsong, from his half-reclined position on Georgi’s favourite frond in the middle of the swamp, where he is playing his violin and sipping cranberry juice. “Be a lamb and refill the juice for me, won’t you?”

 

 

“Viktor, an exquisite looking young man’s sleeping underneath the toadstool outside with his equally exquisite husky! Didn’t you say that you like dogs?”

“Only fat, woolly ones, Georgi! Try harder!”

 

 

“Viktor, look at that beautiful golden-haired sexy beast of a man who’s drowning in the swamp! Naked. Totally _naked_. You have to save him!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Georgi, it’s low tide today. The water level’s barely at my ankles.”

 

 

Georgi’s almost resigned to living the rest of his life in Viktor’s company. At this point, because there is clearly no god, Georgi’s pretty sure that _he’s_ the one being punished.

This goes on until Viktor comes running into the cottage one day in the midst of Georgi’s baking session, butt-naked and dripping wet.

“Georgi, Georgi, I found the man of my dreams,” Viktor breathes.

“What the hell are you doing here, get out of the house and get together with him!” Georgi orders shrilly, dropping the spatula in his hands in favour of jabbing a finger towards the general direction of the door. “Do so at once!”

To his horror, Viktor burst into tears.

“I tried to,” Viktor says. “I was soaking in one of the hot springs outside and I saw – I saw this gorgeous man, playing his flute to woodland creatures and – and he’s so perfect, Georgi, _so_ perfect – and I just – I didn’t think – and I ran out of the water and started to chase after him.”

“You… chased after him,” Georgi says faintly, after a moment of silence. “Naked.”

“ _He ran away from me_ ,” Viktor wails, as if that he hadn’t expected that to be the logical conclusion of the story. “I will never find true love again. _Never_." He trudges into his bedroom – _his_ bedroom, in _Georgi’s_ house – and leaves a trail of sad-looking muddy footprints on the floor. Within a few minutes, the house is filled with the sound of weepy violin music.

And people think _Georgi_ is dramatic. Georgi lets out a long-suffering sigh, and goes to take the mop from underneath the kitchen sink. 

 

 

In order to ensure that Viktor succeeds in wooing the mysterious flute man, Georgi decides to tap on his witchcraft to gather information about him. Know thy enemy, and so on.

The man’s name is Katsuki Yuuri. He’s the ex-apprentice of one of the most famous musicians in the country, Celestino. He wanders into the forest every other day of the week and plays some sad drippy flute music to woodland creatures, for reasons that largely elude Georgi. He’s soft-spoken, owns a pet dog , and has the sort of fashion sense that makes Georgi wants to scream in pain and anguish.

The woodlands creatures _adore_ him.

Most humans don’t make it out of magical forests alive; Yuuri wanders in and out of the place, blissfully ignorant of the fact, like it’s his own _backyard_.

Viktor, traumatised from his disastrous encounter with Yuuri, has taken to pining after Yuuri from afar instead.

“I mean, it’s not pathetic at all,” Georgi says in a monotone, because romance is dead. Romance is dead because Viktor Nikiforov killed it. “You’ve only been pining after him for _six months._ ”

“Oh, shut up,” Viktor snaps from his hiding place behind a large magical toadstool.

Katsuki Yuuri is sitting serenely by the river bank, playing his flute. Clearly, Viktor is not the only besotted creature here – as he sits down, the sunflowers within a ten metre radius immediately unfurl to full bloom and turn to face him, basking him in a faint, yellow, ethereal glow. A baby owlet descends shyly upon Yuuri’s shoulders, and is soon joined by what seems to be its entire extended furry family. Two grizzly bears are perched docilely on a large tree trunk, curled up snugly together and pretty as a picture, as if they hadn’t been trying to claw each other’s eyes out fighting over a small rodent just moments ago.

Viktor remains immobile behind the toadstool for the next hour, and then visibly wilts as Yuuri packs up and disappears into the forest.

“Definitely not pathetic,” Georgi repeats himself. The whole pining-after-someone-from-afar routine had been fine when _he_ was the one doing it; Georgi mopes tastefully. Very tastefully. Viktor’s sickening moping, on the other hand, just involves a lot of snivelling, hiding behind toadstools, and binge-eating on pies.

The foolish man is self-deluded enough to insist, “our child will be beautiful and adorable _and_ musical.”

“And imaginary,” Georgi murmurs darkly. Time to take matters into his own hands; he _will_ get hold of Viktor’s firstborn.

 

 

The next time Yuuri comes to the forest, Georgi strikes. He summons a gust of wind that lifts Yuuri up from his place beside the river bank, above a few magnolia bushes, across a large willow tree – almost snaring the boy’s pants in the branches in the process – and dumps him in the middle of Georgi’s swamp.

In the middle of Georgi’s swamp where, conveniently, Viktor is practicing his morning yoga on his frond (fully clothed; Georgi had made sure of that before carrying out his evil ploy.)

Viktor turns his head towards the source of the noise in alarm, and visibly pales to realise that it’s Yuuri.

“Go get him,” Georgi whispers furiously under his breath, crouched behind his window in the cottage. He’s not proud of his hare-brained ploy, he really isn’t, but because the alternative is spending the rest of eternity with Viktor Nikiforov, Georgi can’t even bring himself to feel ashamed.

Georgi watches as Viktor gets over his shock and tries, valiantly, to manoeuvre his frond towards Yuuri’s general direction. He makes it about three yards before wobbling dangerously and then promptly falls off the leaf into the swamp.

Georgi is left to gape in horror as the next sequence of events unfolds in slow motion.

Katsuki Yuuri freezes for a moment, before he gathers himself and starts to swim – no, _bulldoze_ – towards Viktor with a few strong strokes, just in time to catch the other man who, overcome by shock, has fainted, face-down, into the muddy waters. He wraps one (beautiful, toned) arm around Viktor and, with the remaining (beautiful, toned) arm, paddles his way to shore within five seconds, with the strength and grace of a motherfucking mermaid.

“Please wake up, wake up!” Georgi hears Yuuri say as he shakes Viktor’s shoulders. Viktor coughs, makes a revolting choked sound reminiscent of a badly constipated troll, and falls limply back onto the ground.

Georgi runs towards the two men and barely makes it in time to watch, agog, as Yuuri takes a deep breath, shuts his eye, and _kisses Viktor_.

A few unbearable seconds pass as Viktor lets out another series of cough and opens his eyes.

“Am I dead?” Viktor murmurs, peering at Yuuri through his long, long lashes. “Is this why you’re here?”

“It’s okay.” Yuuri lets out a shaky laugh. “You’re okay now.”

Georgi doesn’t _cry_ , but it’s a near thing.

 

 

As it turns out, Viktor’s disappearance had triggered off a nation-wide search for their beloved crown prince, who, as rumour had it, seemed to have vanished overnight into the enchanted forest. The reason why Yuuri had taken to venturing into the woods to play his instrument was, in fact, an attempt at seeking Viktor out, as if the latter were some shy, fragile woodland creature to be lured out with sad drippy flute music.

“But you ran away from me,” Viktor says, because he is incapable of getting over the insult. “That time, when I met you at the hot spring.”

Yuuri looks at Viktor in a way that makes his opinion of dubious men who leap out of hot springs to chase after unsuspecting strangers, while being naked, abundantly clear.

“Fine, fine, fair enough,” Viktor concedes. “What did the king promise for my return?”

"Five hundred thousand pounds and a lifetime supply of pork cutlet bowls. But," Yuuri blushes deeply, “that’s not why I’m here, though!”

“Oh, Yuuri –”

“I’ve always,” Yuuri says, blushes even deeper, and looks down demurely at his clenched fist. “Ever since I was a kid – when I saw you play the violin at the royal wedding –”

Viktor takes Yuuri’s hands into his own. “I’m glad you found me, in the end.”

“Yes, yes, very touching,” Georgi interrupts. “Now, Viktor, if you’d remember your promise to me –”

Viktor lets out a soft sigh. “But I can’t go back to the country. The king will just try to marry me off again.”

“We could stay here, in the woods, together,” Yuuri exhales. “Forever.”

Wait, _what_?

“You’re right,” Viktor gushes. “I like it here. And the cottage is big enough for one more person.”

“No,” Georgi whispers faintly. “No, no it isn’t –”

“That’s it, then,” Yuuri says with a watery smile, completely oblivious as to the way Georgi is clutching onto the tabletop to prevent himself from passing out. “I still can’t believe this is happening.”

“And when we have children,” Viktor says, eyes sparkling with pure unadulterated joy, “Georgi can be the godfather _and_ the nanny.”

Georgi finally passes out. 

 

 

 

 

bonus:

 

because georgi's life is one cosmic joke, their firstborn turns out to be yuri fucking plisetsky, which further cements georgi's belief that his life is one doomed to eternal hell. despite all appearances, however, yuri is actually fond of godpa georgi and conveys this by spending a large part of his infancy flinging his booger at him. at the age of three, influenced by his parents' musicality, yuri also picks up a musical instrument; yuri chooses neither the violin nor the flute, and settles for a banjo instead, just to be fucking contrary. they hold regular concerts for the woodland creatures, where georgi acts as the emcee. 

**Author's Note:**

> me, writing at 4am: wtf this is the best thing i have ever written  
> me, rereading at 8am: wtf


End file.
